Images of Detroit’s urban decay have served to feed the public imagination as a sort of apocalyptic fantasy. Rather than understanding the architectural and spatial decomposition of Detroit as being intimately intertwined with the forces of neoliberal capitalism, the city itself has been exploited to confirm a collective fear of decline. But what about the future of Detroit? The problematic nature of depicting the city in photographs and through art as a source of “ruin porn” stems from its decontextualization, writing narratives onto a place that are decentralized or unrelated to the place itself. But ruin is the site of rebirth, and Detroit is in an interesting position to be able to decide the direction it will grow. A new Detroit, birthed in an age of technological modernity, has the capacity to sustainably grow with considerations of digitality. Perhaps this is why it has served as a space for the digital imagination.

The Venice Architecture Biennale focused on “The Architectural Imagination,” envisioning possibilities for Detroit. As the curator for the exhibit, Monica Ponce de Leon, stated, architecture, particularly within the context of a city like Detroit, has the possibility to present “ideas that don’t reinforce existing power structures.” Architect Greg Lynn’s project in particular reclaimed the Detroit Packard Plant as The Center for Fulfillment, Knowledge, and Innovation. Using Microsoft HoloLens technology, Lynn was able to literally overlay the decaying auto plant with a projection of his designs, reimagining it as a tech hub where robotics, transportation, education, and retail converge to create a space of flowing commerce, technology, and ideas.

Detroit has also recently been used as the site of Quantic Dream’s upcoming video game, Detroit: Become Human. The setting itself serves as a backdrop for the cinematic, neo-noir thriller, which explores the human-android relationship by exploring the possibilities of emotionally advanced artificial intelligence. Perhaps the contradictions of modernity and nostalgic, neo-noir thriller robotics and sentient life are overlaid on Detroit because the city itself is full of juxtapositions. These conflicting ideas are essential to Detroit as it tries to aggregate the parts of its identity necessary to move forward and re-create itself.

When introducing the language of technology to the discussion of Detroit’s future, narratives of space must concern themselves with integration and redevelopment. By overlaying architectural and imaginative designs for the future on Detroit, the sustained life that has continued on and the rich history of the city’s past are erased. It’s important when imagining the future that the growth of the city is rooted in context. Like Detroit: Become Human, the city itself must not act as a playground for the imagination, but rather serve to emphasize and complement other kinds of narrative contradictions. Additionally, like Lynn’s designs for the Packard Plant, the physicality and use of space shouldn’t be disassociated from its original context, but rather readapted and revitalized for modern times. By refusing to ignore Detroit’s heartbeat and choosing to remember and celebrate the past, there is hope for a city independent of the power structures that have defined its political, economic, and racial history.

In 2009 the New Museum in New York presented “It Is What It Is: Conversations About Iraq,” a commission by British Artist Jeremy Deller. I left the museum with quiet tears streaming down my face, deeply moved by the experience. Deller placed a living room setup in the middle of the floor and curated a group of veterans, journalists, scholars, and Iraqi nationals to have an unrestrained open dialogue with the visitors. I sat alone with Nour al-Khal, who worked as a translator in Basra and survived journalist Steven Vincent in 2005 when they were abducted, beaten, and shot by armed men.

No one knows for sure what will be the next great development in storytelling technology, but many are placing their bets on virtual reality. Since the Oculus Rift launched on Kickstarter in 2012, dozens of VR-related startups have emerged, creating everything from VR treadmills to documentaries.

Want to go to the Soho Apple Store? The Ralph Lauren and Dior stores? Sure you do. Like many streets in Manhattan, Greene Street has a long history—one that has changed with each quarter century. And Greene Street was not always the shopping mecca that it is today. As the interactive web documentary A Long History of a Short Block demonstrates, the street, like Manhattan itself, has played host to a wide range of infrastructure, communities, businesses, and people.

What if I told you that the “future” of storytelling the way people often think about it—Twitter and blogging and Internet-centricity—isn’t really the future at all? What if all of these “new” developments in storytelling are actually references to 100 years ago?

In November 2014, a scandal erupted around Mexican president Enrique Peña Nieto after the media discovered that his enormous family mansion was actually owned by a construction company to which the government had recently awarded a multibillion-dollar contract. The mansion’s ownership raised suspicions of a quid pro quo agreement between Nieto and the construction company. In a country fraught with crime and violence, Nieto’s house—often referred to as the Casa Blanca—for many became a symbol of government corruption.

Back in 2008, Colin Northway designed a flash game that was wildly addictive called Fantastic Contraption. With the simple goal of delivering a red orb from one side of the map to the other, players used different moving or static parts to construct their delivery device. It was the simplicity that inspired seemingly infinite solutions to each challenge—real feats of engineering and armchair ingenuity, like elaborate cranes and slingshots.

In the Eyes of the Animal, created by Marshmallow Laser Feast, is a new virtual-reality experience that lets viewers see and explore nature as animals do. Created using a combination of 360-degree aerial filming, photogrammetry, and CT scans—along with a binaural soundtrack using audio recordings sourced from the surrounding woodland—the video offers a unique perspective of England’s Grizedale Forest and its local animal and insect inhabitants.

Eli Horowitz is a writer, designer, editor, and previous publisher of McSweeney’s. His digital novel, The Silent History, won the Webby Awards in 2012, and his most recent project, The Pickle Index, was showcased at this this year’s FoST summit in the Story Arcade. The novel, set in a society where all citizens must participate in a pickle-centric recipe exchange, exists in three simultaneous stand-alone editions: an app, an interactive hardcover set, and a paperback published by FSG.